Well, I didn't even get an honorable mention, but I'm grateful for the feedback they gave me!

However, I believe my friends and I re-worked the story to be far more compelling, and we did so before I got any official feedback. So, I'll break it down and talk about what I've learned through this experience. Also, below will be the revised story. I'm curious and eager to hear from all of you whether you think we were able to come up with a story that would have addressed the judges' criticisms before even knowing what those criticisms were?

Feel free to go back and read the original story HERE.

Here's what the judges had to say:

Dear Mathew Kane,

The feedback from the judges on your 1st Round submission from the 250-word Microfiction Challenge 2024 is below. We hope you find the feedback helpful, and you are proud of the story you created. Thank you for participating, and we hope to see you in a future challenge!

*''Palpable Gravity'' by Mathew Kane WHAT THE JUDGES LIKED ABOUT YOUR STORY

{Judge #1}  The child's eye view of this new phase of human existence is effectively drawn. The use of the ball-prompt as the narrator's teacher is both clever and an effective way to plant necessary exposition into the story. 

{Judge #2}  Nova Juno is a likable and relatable character, and even though he's living somewhere 390 million miles away from Earth, it's nice to see that he's no different from children today. His frustration that he's too young, his boredom with learning, and the fact that he's been put in timeout are all familiar, and there's something hopeful about the idea that human life will continue on in such a similar vein even after humans have left Earth. I also like the ending, the fact that he has brought Gurdie online and that he might be ready for his lesson suggesting that he is growing up a bit. 

{Judge #3}  I really like that you've chosen a young child as a narrator. Not a lot of writers do this, so it gives your story a very unique take. Plus, even though you're writing from a child's perspective, it still feels believable—not too cheesy. Favorite line: I guess that's why they put me in timeout.

WHAT THE JUDGES FEEL NEEDS WORK

{Judge #1}  Ms. Cyris is a slight distraction from the focal points of this very brief story: it seems at first that this is the narrator's teacher, but the teacher-figure in the story is, of course, Gurdie. If this is meant as an intentional misdirect, it's slightly more confusing than it is worth, given how brief the story is. The reason for gravity lessening in this ward over the presumably brief life of the narrator is unclear, and it's unclear why it can't be explained. 

{Judge #2}  As much as I liked the character of Nova Juno and found him relatable, I wanted to know a little more about what he saw as the conflict between him and the grownups. They say, for instance, that he's too young, but it's not clear what he's too young for – what would he like to do that his age is preventing him from? And he's also being punished, but the reasons are vague – he says “I guess that's why they put me in timeout,” referring to the conversation about gravity, but it isn't clear what he had done wrong – was he punished just for complaining about the gravity?

{Judge #3}  The gravity component may leave some room for difficult in the plot point. The narrator says several times that the ball doesn't bounce because the gravity was turned on—but without gravity, how would the ball bounce? Wouldn't it just float around? Consider fact-checking.*

Lesson #1 – Microfiction is fucking hard:

Trying to cram interesting and fleshed out characters into 250 words or less is an extremely tight budget. Now, compound that issue with also trying to deliver a setting and a plot arc. It's virtually impossible to do effectively, and still provide enough for the reader to create a vision of your story in their mind.

Lesson #2 – Eliminate any questions your readers might have:

Especially concerning sci-fi, readers go into a story already expecting things to be different from the way we experience them in our everyday lives. So they're looking for the differences, but if you focus too much on that you potentially lose valuable space and pacing that can be used for other aspects of the story that are more universal.

Lesson #3 – Feedback is not always helpful:

There were a large number of people who signed up for the challenge, and while I don't know how many of them actually finished, I would venture to guess that the submission rate is fairly high considering the cost involved. I don't remember the exact dollar amount since I took advantage of a $5 discount offer they had for promoting the challenge on social media, and also signed up early (which is a discounted rate in-and-of itself). None the less I'm sure the judges had a mountain of slosh to read through, and then to provide meaningful criticisms for each entrant could be challenging in its own right—depending of course on how many stories you were tasked with reading and rating as a judge.

The challenge is scored, the rules explicitly state that this is a contest of skill and not of chance. But you're not provided with a final scoring percentage (at least that I can find), just the bare feedback. Without knowing exactly which points in my story dragged it down from a scoring standpoint, it's hard for me to fully understand where the criticism is coming from. That being said, I did find that the first judge gave me really constructive advice concerning the character of Ms. Cyris. If I had eliminated her, I probably could have freed up some of the budget to address the things about my story that the other two judges had.

Palpable Gravity – Redux

CLA – DUNK!

CLA-Dunk!

“Nova Juno! You're just too young!” Papa, you always say that! I whisper to Gurdie.

Clah-dunnnk!

clahdunk clahdunk-clahdunk...

I had more fun when our ward didn't have any gravity. Gurdie just doesn't bounce the same since they turned it on. Plus the machines let out a high pitch, but Papa says he can't hear it. I keep telling him he's just too damn old. “Wait till you get to be my age!” He says.

“Whatcha think, Gurdie?”

I like watching him spring to life. Sometimes I call him just to see his eyes glow blue, and then I yell 'GO BACK T’ SLEEP' before he can ask me what I want him to do next. I know I'm supposed to use him more, but I don’t wanna. When he's offline, he's good for bouncin' and good for modding. Least, he used to be. Stupid gravity.

“Young Nova! This is how our ancestors lived 390 million miles away. I don’t think you should talk about gravity as if it didn’t exist before then,” Ms. Cyris says. “Gravity has always been here, just not as much of it.” They caught me, again, tinkering. I guess that's why they put me in timeout.

Gurdie is supposed to teach me, answer my questions, help me understand, but I just keep him offline most times.

CLA – DUNK!

Cla-Dink!

“Gurdie!?”

He rolls around, his glowing blue eyes meet mine.

“Yes, Nova?”

What speed do you think you’ll reach rolling downhill?

“Let’s see.”

Final Impressions:

I really enjoyed the experience, and I've already signed up for the Short Story challenge. Unfortunately I will not be able to post my submission as a blog post right away due to a revision in the rules... They are requesting that entrants wait until 10 days after the results are published before posting their stories to a blog or elsewhere on the web. So, while I'll be submitting my entry on February 1st, you won't see a copy of my submission on this blog until April 11th or shortly thereafter. In fact, this post was written the day after the results were emailed to us, but I've waited the 10 days out of respect for NYC Midnight—even though I'm publishing a different version of the story than the one that was submitted.

HOWEVER, what I may do in the interim is post some of the ideas or other drafts I wrote but didn't polish or submit as my official entry to the competition. It will really depend on how prolific I am this week.

FINALLY

👏 Congratulations 👏 to all the winners. Although I have not read your stories, clearly you did better than I did in the eyes of the judges. Maybe I'll dig around in the official forums and see if any of you shared your stories in there.

Not sure exactly when it was that I found out about the NYC Midnight writing competitions, must have been at least a few years ago now though. Probably around COVID, which would make sense because it's the type of thing that people were doing while they were locked in their homes... I'm also not sure what it is that brought me back to it this year. But I made the decision to finally pony up the entry fee and actually get serious about it.

Microfiction isn't something that I write or read a whole lot of, but I do like the idea. Get something down quick within the 48 hour deadline, try to flesh out an entire story within a ridiculously small word count (250), and make it memorable and engaging.

The competition started Friday night at 9pm (midnight in New York City). I stayed up till probably 4am or later. I wrote probably 6 different stories, these three below are the best ones from that batch. The last one is the one that I submitted.

As Hope and Promise Fade

“I'm only two drinks away from crying.”

His inflection was serious and sincere, but I was already well past 6 or 7 drinks myself... Not quite gone, but certainly well enough intoxicated that I was at ease with anything he could “tell” me.

J-Rod.

His tiny mouth didn't move along his grey skin, his thoughts conveyed it all; his name, his mission, the future, our place in it. The fact that they were our ward, and that Humanity was fucking shit up, the top 1% of the top 1% who were responsible. So the rest of us didn't think anything of it. Their almond eyes were a comforting sedative for the political insanity. Lo and behold, the very nature of our sovereignty and independence was at stake.

I couldn't concentrate though, for some reason the bartender is busy slapping a baseball into a well-worn glove, meanwhile, a gal with curly long blond hair and a purple sequence dress is in the corner of this dusty saloon off the 376 North—some 200 miles north of the S-4 facility—she sang her heart out. Whiskey was all out, but no one wanted the gin, so I dug in.

“Stare into the glass... Wait for the time to PASS!”

Bartender can't be more than seventeen, but it's been a few years since J-Rod's people showed themselves to be wards of Gaia, mother earth. It's the life generating capabilities of the planet that they care about. Couldn't give two fucks about scared apes with nukes.

Point out the Bounce

Last night's late night snack isn't sitting too well. We're both feeling it as we get bounced around. I look to my left and I can see Patricia blanking out as her eyes roll back into her skull.

Not only are we bouncing around like a child's toy, the Ward 7 Spherical Security System deployment procedure is not a very fun experience. You only have a few minutes to strap in against the wall before the sphere shoots out shattering the ground and blocking out the natural light from above, it engulfs your entire habitat. It's like a transformation, except there's still a lot to rebuild after it's all over.

My gut throws a “YEAHAAGHAR!” out of my mouth as I try coming up with any word that describes my emotions colliding with my thoughts as they pulsate in a liquid thud against the front of my brain, one after the other. Dark thoughts I'd rather not see. So I go back to the training.

This is definitely what they taught us. Shock, exhaustion, and a vasovagal response. Vision shifting to pure white.

One final slush of blood smacks against the front my skull; “Attacks can persist for up to 12 hours.” It was in the fucking fine print of the brochure.

When I awoke I could tell that we were oriented on our backs, slightly swaying. The first thing I did was look in her direction.

“We made it,” my smile says to hers.

Palpable Gravity

Cla – Dunk!

Cla-Dunk!

“Nova Juno! You're just too young!” That's what they tell me anyway. Papa especially. Nonsense.

Clah-dunnnk!

clahdunk clahdunk-clahdunk...

It was much more fun when our ward didn't have any gravity. Gurdie just doesn't bounce the same since they turned it on. Plus the machines let out a high pitch, but Papa says he can't hear it. I keep telling him he's just too damn old. “Wait till you get to be my age!” He says.

“What do you think, Gurdie?”

I like watching him spring to life. Sometimes I call him just to see his eyes glow blue, and then I yell “GO BACK TO SLEEP” before he can ask me what I want him to do next. I don't really do a whole lot with him, he doesn't do much anyway. But when he's offline, he's good for bouncin'. Least, he used to be. Stupid gravity.

Ms. Cyris says this is the way humans used to live before we came out here, 390 million miles away. She also says that I shouldn't talk about gravity like it didn't exist before. That it was always there, just not as much of it. I guess that's why they put me in timeout.

Gurdie is supposed to teach me, answer my questions, help me understand, but I just keep him offline most times.

Cla – Dunk!

Cla-Dunk!

“Hey Gurdie!”

He spins around, his glowing blue eyes meet mine.

“Are you finally ready for your lesson, Nova?”

This particular competition/challenge, we were given a genre, a word and an action. I was in Group 1, which was “Sci-Fi”, “ward”, and “bouncing a ball.”

My first story doesn't work because it doesn't actually have a bouncing ball in it anywhere. My second story I thought was kind of clever, but everyone seemed to like the one about the kid, so that's the one that I submitted, 🤞.

There's also another competition in January. That one is a full short story competition though. I've already got my calendar marked. I'm not so concerned with how well this one goes, just getting over the hump and actually writing something that I submitted somewhere was nice to do. I am looking forward to the feedback though, that's part of the reason to do the competition.